A Song for the Funeral Mourners
by ChasingPavements19
Summary: Fitz needs time to heal after his father's funeral. Olivia's there to pick up the pieces. Olitz


A/N: Read while listening to "**Lover, You Should've Come Over**" by Jeff Buckley

* * *

_Looking out the door I see the rain fall upon the funeral mourners _  
_Parading in a wake of sad relations as their shoes fill up with water _  
_And maybe I'm too young to keep good love from going wrong _  
_But tonight you're on my mind so you never know _

_Broken down and hungry for your love with no way to feed it _  
_Where are you tonight, child you know how much I need it _  
_Too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run _

_Sometimes a man gets carried away, when he feels like he should be having his fun _  
_And much too blind to see the damage he's done _  
_Sometimes a man must awake to find that really, he has no-one _

_So I'll wait for you... and I'll burn _  
_Will I ever see your sweet return _  
_Oh will I ever learn _

_Oh lover, you should've come over _  
_'Cause it's not too late _

_Lonely is the room, the bed is made, the open window lets the rain in _  
_Burning in the corner is the only one who dreams he had you with him _  
_My body turns and yearns for a sleep that won't ever come _

_It's never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder _  
_It's never over, all my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her _  
_It's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter _  
_It's never over, she's the tear that hangs inside my soul forever _

_Well maybe I'm just too young _  
_To keep good love from going wrong _

_Oh... lover, you should've come over _  
_'Cause it's not too late _

_Well I feel too young to hold on _  
_And I'm much too old to break free and run _  
_Too deaf, dumb, and blind to see the damage I've done _  
_Sweet lover, you should've come over _  
_Oh, love well I'm waiting for you _

_Lover, you should've come over _  
_Cause it's not too late_

* * *

It was late. Too late for them to be up. But they were used to late nights and stolen moments. This moment, somehow, feels like theirs- like they were not existing together on borrowed time, but rather in another place altogether. Isolated from the outside. Safe. Unburdened.

With a tenderness and a passion previously unseen, they touched and felt, screamed and cried that late night. Olivia's bare back arched up against a cold, smooth surface. Fitz's hands and sorrow were all over her. Their names echoed through the house, unheard by anyone but the two of them.

Fitz had told Mellie that he needed some time to himself after the funeral. He said he needed to spend it at the ranch in solitude, to grieve for the weekend. And so the campaign was momentarily put on hold. To the rest of the world he was grieving alone, but he wasn't.

He didn't even have to ask Olivia to stay. She had tucked her head into the crook of his neck nudging her nose into his skin, skimming her lips along his pulse. She told him she would, '_for as long as you need.' _she said. The cars had pulled out of the expansive driveway, kicking up gravel dust, leaving them behind. Olivia took Fitz's hand and led him inside. She the house was huge, and she wasn't sure where to take him. He silently took her upstairs, shoulders slumped, head hung. He had never looked so small, so defeated. He led her into his bedroom, slowly like another funeral march.

She sat him down at the edge of the bed, undressed him, because she knew he needed it. She told him to lay down. '_Sleep_' Olivia whispered, tucking an errant curl from his face. When his eyes were closed, his body at ease, the rhythm of breathing steady, she crawled in next to him. The honey-coloured light of night and day suffused through the windows, pouring into the room. It set everything aglow. The sun had yet to fall before they were fast asleep in each other's arms.

When she woke up, it was dark. It was cold, too, because she was alone. Fitz's imprint on the bed had been left beside her. She grabbed a plush cream-coloured throw and wrapped it around herself. She walked through the beautiful wooden halls of the house, her bare feet stepping lightly. She marvelled at it. It was his home, his family's home. There were pictures hung on the walls of them. They looked happy, and a pang of guilt stung her heart for the thousandth time.

She followed a sound from downstairs, and saw light coming from a door left ajar. The room was big and empty, except for a single, black, grand piano where he sat. The muscles in his back were strong and incredibly sculpted and he played beautifully.

He must have heard her coming because when she wrapped her arms around him, continued to play. The melody was so sweet, so sorrowful.

Olivia took a seat next to him, watched his expert fingers work magic. "Play me something."

He licked his lips preceded to play something new. Something for him, for her, for their love and desperation.

_It's never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder._

She runs her fingers through his hair, admiring his perfect downcast profile.

_It's never over, all my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her. _

She leaves wet kisses along his jawline and neck. Watches him continue to sing as a tear slips down his cloudy face. He's somewhere else. Somewhere she doesn't know how to find. His mind is miles and miles away from the room in which they sit. In his most painful memories and his most treasured ones. He sees them all because when you lose someone, it doesn't end, no matter how much time passes. All the hatred, all the pain, all the love that went unwarranted, comes rising up to the surface. Mixing, mingling, the beautiful, and the tragic.

_It's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter. _

She clings to him, tears of her own running down his soft shoulder, where her chin rests. Her hand is at the small of his back, rubbing back and forth. A sweet, familiar gesture.

_It's never over, she's the tear that hangs inside my soul forever._

She makes a silent promise to herself to never leave him, not really. She promises to always be his, even if he can never truly be hers. He'll be Mellie's, he'll be his father's, he'll be America's. He will mean something to everybody, but only mean everything to onebody, Olivia.

_"Sweet Lover, you should've come over."_

When he finishes, his throat and fingers are in pain from singing and playing.

She takes the pain away, giving him pleasure instead, and in turn, gives herself a reason of her own to mourn.


End file.
